A desperate cry for Truth
by HazyWolf
Summary: Years before the first book, another Champion from District 12 writes down his own experiences of his time during the 54th Official Hunger Games, and the painful truth that transpired before and after. From the Reaping, to the very last day of Survival, Ryke finally tells of his horrid times as a Tribute, the Publicity, the Training, and finally, how he managed to survive...


[A note from the Author]

Dear reader. In three weeks time I am leaving District 12 and taking leave. I need to get away from this place before the good old President Snow orders my quick demise. I recently partook in an Interview you see, and as it was MEANT to be a live broadcast, I highly doubt it. My views on such "Order" that the games have stamped upon us has diminished to nothing more than a meager thought dwindling like a candle on its last flickers of light. So, I am writing down my experiences during that god awful time, in hopes that someone may find it in the times to come. No-one should want to be chosen as a Tribute. No one should rely on the Odds being with them. its all a load of crap. If you are reading this, then I want you to take a moment to remind yourself that my views and experiences are different than that you saw on the televised broadcast of the Games I had participated in. Things DID happen. Things THEY chose not to show. Anyway, lets start with the start.

-Ryke Saunteria

Chapter 1

Daunting Odds

I was an Orphan in the lowest of Districts. Life had not exactly been the best of days with such a matter, and for what it was worth, no one really cared. My parents had been struck down by a Merchant, slaughtered during their distress when a broadcast of "Memorable deaths from past games" had played. Apparently, my Father tried to consolidate the shattered family, and in a hysteria of madness, they lashed out and struck him in the skull with a butchers knife, and then My Mother, as she plead for them to calm down. It was a sickening day for a 14 year old to witness. Pathetic really, as when I look back now, I don't think I could remember their faces...All I see now are just bodies added to my death toll... Years had passed on, and one after another I found myself being cared for by another Family. I did not speak much in those times, never felt the need to. All I did was run away, get caught, dragged back, and then re-located to another. It was not long before the whole District knew my face...Their disgusted expressions did not need words...I was the scum you wash off your hands when you wished to be clean. As the years rolled on, my day to day basis had now rolled between stealing and running, I got quite good at it too...Some days I would come back to my little home, which, by any standards, was only a few wooden boxes stitched together with flimsy rope, creating a hollow cube...Oh, and a straw bundle. Because I needed SOMEWHERE to sleep, and sit by with a few apples. Some days, however, I would only return with the blood dripping down yet another mark left by an intended targets assault. It was not all bad, however, as I had made a few friends along my oh so blessed life. Another orphan, who was abandoned at doorstep, Markus. He was a bit of a chubby guy...Same age as me and over the years, had created somewhat of an attachment to the quiet life. While I would leave our box to steal, he would remain by, sleeping for most the time or working on yet another plan to, as he would say it, "Steal our freedom". I remember one night his brilliant idea was to sneak into the coal mines and traverse the tunnels, leaving through the other side. `Course...It wasn't until we had gotten lost and nearly starved to death before coming out the same way a few days later, that he realized...There was no other side. Dumb any case, fast forward a few months later, and things became very clear that the newest Hunger Games were on its way.

We drew breath after boring breath those few more days, doing what we did best before returning with a bounty of 4 apples that night. Markus and I had not mentioned the imminent approach of the Peacekeepers that would one day storm through with their set-up of yet another picking...So I did the honors. "Markus...Do you think we could ever win?" "Ryke. Stop, before you say anything else, Saying that would mean that we one of us would have to be chosen as a Tribute, and...Well, both of us are guys. Even if we were lucky enough, only ONE of us would have that experience." It took me a while, but when I retraced his words, something twinged in my mind. "Wait...Lucky enough? What ya mean by that...?" I ran my scarred hands through my wild mess of light brown hair, slicking it back before taking an apple and biting it. God I love apples. Especially the juicy ones. As I took that bite though, something told me I needed something blocking what words would come as a response to his words. "Well..I mean...How else will we have our freedom..." His head sank. It was obvious his mind was at a splitting road. on one, he wished to be chosen, the other...Well, was the more sane side, saying no. "Shut up Markus. Seriously. What makes you think you can even SURVIVE the games, let alone be chosen...And for the record..." My arm stretched forward, fist balled up, and impacted against his shoulder, sending him twisting against the box`s walls, his reaction clearly showed me he was in some pain. "...I don't want to ever hear the want you just showed me to BE picked...The games is too much for a pair of Orphans who have no life..." I drew back my hand, shaking it a little before laying down, turning my back towards him with eyes clenched shut. "We can barely survive District 12...Whats odds do we have with even lasting another year like this...?" I felt tears draw around my eyes, yet I fought hard for them to dissipate. I heard the slow ruffles of straw as Markus withdrew to his side. I could swear I felt the strength in his voice as I listened to the last words he spoke that night. "No one cares if you have a life or not. Our names...Are in that bowl...And tomorrow...We line up like the rest of them and wait. Funny how the one time we can act like we belong to our own District...Is the worst time to be in any District. Who gives a shit about odds...Tomorrow...I think...I might just prey for the first time...Goodnight Ryke." I remember that night all too well. The sounds of machines being set-up in the dead of night allowed the thoughts of tomorrow to creep on into mind. I truly felt myself shiver with despair. I hated, for the first time in my life, being born into a world like this.


End file.
